


all that remains

by riftclosing



Category: Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riftclosing/pseuds/riftclosing
Summary: a fairly short story about hawke dealing with his mothers' death





	all that remains

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't project onto your ocs after a family death what are you even doing

Fenris agreed to stay the night after Leandra had died. Andrew hadn’t asked, wouldn’t have asked, but Fenris stayed because he knew he needed it. He needed someone to be there with him in closer proximity than he would allow Bodhan or Orana.

So, he climbed into Andrew’s bed with him. The mage faced the window, his back turned towards Fenris. He was curled into a ball over the comforter, clutching a pillow in his arms, his whole body tensed and uncomfortable. Fenris turned away from Andrew and laid flat on his own back. Sleep didn’t come easily for either of them that night, but how could it? Fenris kept his eyes trained on the bed’s canopy as he listened to Andrew whimper through the night. He felt compelled to touch him but wasn’t sure if it was needed or welcomed. Instead, he laid there in case Andrew decided he needed comfort.

It was hours before the sobbing stopped and his breaths finally slowed. Fenris was awake for at least another hour after Andrew had fallen asleep, just listening to his breathing. He fought back his need to sleep just in case Andrew woke up again and needed him. His eyes grew heavy regardless and soon sleep called for him as well.

The next morning, Fenris woke to an empty bed. A short search revealed Andrew in the bathing room. His hair, which was shoulder length when they had gone to bed, was chopped in a ragged, uneven way. Andrew turned to look at Fenris with strands of his hair still stuck to his upper body. He was clutching a pair of scissors in his left hair and locks of hair in his right.

“Mom always told me keeping my hair long reminded her of my dad, back when she first met him,” Andrew rarely spoke of his father so Fenris let the questions on his tongue die, “She always said I looked just like him and acted just like him. The only real difference is that he was a shit healer and healing is about all I can do,”

“He cut it, eventually. Mom always said she wanted to see me with shorter hair one day, to see if I looked like him. I can’t tell. I barely remember what he looks like.”

Aveline was the one to cut Andrew’s hair into something respectable. She’d helped Wesley with his, she’d said, so she could deal with shorter styles. Andrew made some half-hearted joke about the atrocious style he’s seen Wesley in when they’d met, but Aveline wasn’t baited. The hairstyle she gave him was distinctly un-Wesley like, or so Andrew said, so he was alright with it. Fenris caught him running his fingers through his hair a few times, staring into the mirror as if trying to find something there.

Andrew had her body burned privately. It was not the way of things, and there were some amongst Leandra’s acquaintances that expressed anger, but Andrew stood silently in the face of their complaints. Those closest to him knew that he didn’t want anyone else to see his mother as Quentin had left her. Instead of a pyre, he held a wake in their home. He played the part of a kind host and grieving son well. When the guests left, he stood in the foyer for an hour before going to bed.

There were worries amongst Hawke’s friends about him jumping into work headfirst. He’d worked himself into sickness when Carver had been taken by the Wardens. Losing Leandra would be worse.

But he… didn’t. He didn’t call on them to help him fight brigands, or run off on errands for the Arishok or viscount. In fact, for three weeks, they saw very little of him. Orana was tasked with handling his groceries and Bodhan oversaw the house. From what everyone knew, Andrew was just in his room, sleeping and eating and writing letters to what little family he had left.

Three weeks, and he was back in the Hanged Man on a game night, smiling at all his friends as if nothing happened. He didn’t tell anyone and they were genuinely surprised when he showed up unannounced. Now, he was quieter than usual, and didn’t drink, and was holding his friends' hands a lot more than he would have, but he was there, and that was a major improvement.

When the night ended and everyone started heading off, he did the weirdest thing. He gave each and every one of his friends a long, tight hug. Each stopped right before it ended up being too long (because Andrew’s timing was always impeccable). He left them all with a thank you and a promise to see them soon before he walked up to Hightown on his home alone.

No one really knew what to make of him, poor thing, and he didn’t want anyone to walk him home. He looked so small and sad as he made his way that it broke his friends’ hearts. Varric said he’d have someone watch his walk-up, and Aveline wanted to trail behind him, but it was Fenris who decided to follow Andrew at a distance. It wasn’t necessary despite everyone’s worries. Few people were on the street and everyone who was there gave Andrew a wide berth. When he made it to his estate, Andrew suddenly turned and waved, letting Fenris know that he wasn’t as stealthy as he thought he had been. Andrew was smiling, not as bright as he would have a month ago, but he was smiling.

He’d be fine. He always was.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading OwO


End file.
